False Pretenses - Kathy Herman [49]
“I sure did,” Father Sam said. “I’ve never seen such a sight here before. You’d have thought we had a terrorist attack or something.”
Zoe raised her eyebrows up and down. “Didn’t we? A hate crime is terrorism, even if the terrorists are homegrown. And just because only one man was targeted doesn’t make it less vicious.”
Tex came in the front door and raised his hand. “Mornin’, everyone.” He walked over to the table and settled into the chair next to Hebert. “We’ve got us a little media madness out there—all the major cable channels plus Lafayette, Houma, and New Orleans—as far as I could tell. Could be more. Things are heatin’ up, and the sheriff still isn’t sayin’ whether they have any suspects. But I’m not sure how much he can say durin’ an open investigation either.”
Savannah came to the table and started filling cups with coffee. “Well, he’d better say something, unless he wants folks to start reading between the lines. It’s better if they know he doesn’t have anything so they don’t start speculating. That’s how rumors get started.”
Zoe was tempted to tell them about the shoe prints, the DNA, the secret tunnel, and the suspect’s connection to Langley Manor, but Vanessa had made it clear she couldn’t say anything.
“My guess,” Zoe said, “is that Jude’s working every possible angle. He’s got to do everything right. The whole world is breathing down his neck.”
Hebert picked up his cup and blew on his coffee. “Dat’s fuh shore.”
Zoe walked into the office for the fourth time that morning, hoping to find an envelope with “instructions” on how to make contact with the man who intended to blackmail her. What was taking so long? She could hardly wait to see his face when she informed him that Adele knew everything and he wasn’t going to get a nickel from her. It was time to end this before it went any further.
She glanced at her watch. Noon. She was sleepier than she was hungry. Why not go upstairs to her apartment and put her feet up—catch a power nap to help offset her restless night?
She left the office, then walked up the stairs and unlocked the door to her apartment. On the wood floor in the entryway was an envelope with her name typed on the front! She picked it up, her heart nearly pounding out of her chest. She grabbed the letter opener and slit the envelope, then pulled out the note—more letters cut from a magazine and pasted on: Roux River Park. Landry Trail. 5:00 p.m. Wait at the first turn. I’ll find you. Tell no one.
She knew the exact spot. Not that she was entirely comfortable meeting the mystery man in those dark woods. But it made sense he didn’t want to be seen with her. Would she recognize him? It almost had to be someone who had worked for Adele.
She was curious to find out how much he knew—and how he had come to know it. Hadn’t her clandestine meeting with the jewelry dealer been off the books? Hadn’t he paid her with cash? Hadn’t the money been deposited in three bank accounts in the name of Zoe Benoit? Shelby Sieger no longer existed. How could anyone have figured that out—and that she had moved to Les Barbes? She had left no forwarding address.
Zoe flopped on the couch and stretched out, every muscle in her body begging for rest. Hadn’t she been smart to go to Alexandria and confess everything to Adele? No way was she letting this guy turn her life upside down. All she had to do now was meet with him, tell him why he was wasting his time, and walk away.
Jude Prejean sat at the old oak desk in his office, his hands clasped behind his head, his gaze set on the round, white columns of the Saint Catherine Parish courthouse across the street. The fresh white paint made the historic building seem to glow in the hot July sun.
At the corner of Courthouse and Primeaux a vendor stood on the sidewalk, selling andouille corn dogs.
Jude glanced at his watch. Noon. He listened intently. Now he could hear them. Not far away, the bells of Saint Catherine’s rang out, announcing it was time for the noon recitation of the Angelus. An old man sitting on the courthouse steps